


halcyon dawns

by quqin



Series: who ever desired each other as we do [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream, M/M, Prince Dave | Technoblade, War, brainrot, idek what this is lmao, mmmmm angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quqin/pseuds/quqin
Summary: He thinks that this isn’t a bad way to go at all, embraced by dawn, and held by dusk.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade
Series: who ever desired each other as we do [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018779
Comments: 43
Kudos: 301





	halcyon dawns

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Important disclaimer that i am only shipping their personas, not the real people!! If the CCs ever mention explicitly that they are uncomfortable with this kind of stuff, I will immediately take this down. Please don’t shove this onto them or show it to them either!! 
> 
> 2\. Because this work is mainly focused on memories, i’ll be splitting up the memories and the present by *** and ---. If you see ***, it’s me skipping from present to past/past to present, and if you see --- then it’s a time-skip within Dream’s memories of the past. it sounds confusing when i explain it like this but i’ve tried to write this work in a way that’s easy to understand!! If there are any questions, feel free to ask me c: 
> 
> 3\. I’ve been talking to a few of my friends about it and have been working on figuring out how ao3 + its layouts work bc it changes the spacing and formatting of my writing when i move my work from a google docs to it which has kinda been messing up the vibes a bit, i’ve never really worked with html and its layout bc in the past i’ve mostly been writing on websites such as advanced scribes, which uses BB code instead and so the coding + formatting is different. So, please be patient with me and it’ll take me a bit to work things out!! I’m not the fastest with learning stuff like this akjnsksfn and i’m really sorry if the formatting of my works throws you off or anything g a h 
> 
> 4\. This work’s based off Pablo Neruda’s poem “when i die i want your hands on my eyes” hehe, and Ii also wasn't originally written to be a continuation of twenty-one summers, but you can treat it like one if that’s what you want (or you could also just treat it like a random fic if you want twenty-one summers to remain a happy ending aksjdnskdf)
> 
> Vibes are “made me this way” by seraphine & jasmine clarke & absofacto, “island” by youha, “fall in lust” by Eden & jiselle, “Let’s!” by Hoppipolla, “Spring Breeze” by WannaOne and "Universe" by Minhyun c: 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading!!

Techno had always liked him in red, but as his lover cries while watching the rich colour bloom across his shoulder and his chest in sick fields of poppies, Dream doesn’t know if the prince will like the colour anymore in the future when he no longer exists. 

He thinks that he should not be as content as he feels right now, in the arms of his trembling partner, but maybe it’s the way he knows that he would not be able to savour this for much longer, that time seems to slow, and he looks around to take in the world, to imprint it into his mind. 

It was because of Techno, that he loved the snow - the snow that is beautiful on the ground right now as the pale lights of heaven glow softly down on the rose hair of his beloved, the winter goddess whispering her apologies while she tousles her fingers through Techno’s long locks. Dream thinks that he looks every bit the heavenly deity he appeared to be when they first met, in that castle, on that day where there was silver and frozen dew draping over baroque swirls of ivy and fleurs-de-lis in ornamental finishings, where there were ruby eyes as dark as sweet wine and pierced him just as gently with a soft kind of destruction, where Dream thinks that he meets a god. 

He wants to lift an arm up to let his fingers trace over the pearl-dusted planes of his lover’s cheeks, cool from the wind and pale like a moon’s dying light. He wants to feel him closer, wants to be wrapped up in his embrace that spoke of cozy hearths and sweet maple so that the bitter breaths of the naked, cold sky would no longer visit his shivering body and rake its claws through porcelain limbs. And he wants to kiss away the crushed crystals that fracture to leave a glittering path in their wake as they trickle down the curves of Techno’s jaw, wants to taste the splendour, the sharpness and the cool velvet that makes up the wondrous man clutching Dream to his chest.

He wants to follow the flowing waters of serenity that Techno brings to him in the form of an extended hand, gloved fingers waiting for his summer touch, for his golden breath, so that they can weave their nights, the winds, the Earth, and their fate together. He wants to keep experiencing the sweet love and trust he is gifted with, for he has learnt that the bravest thing Techno could ever do for him is to show him his tears, to let Dream tug on his hands tenderly and heal what is tearing him apart with gentle hands and even gentler love. But more than anything else, he wants for the arrow buried in his chest to just be a figment of his imagination, for the blood gushing out of his wounds to remain within him so that he would have enough essence to have his heart continue beating, for his heart to withstand the loving way Techno handles him, warming him up between his hands to have him trembling from worship and adoration that he does not understand how he came to deserve. 

“Why did you do it, Dream? Why?” Techno whispers into the snow-speckled air, and Dream thinks that there’s a thin sheen of hazy mist that fogs over his vision as a burning wetness grows in the back of his eyes, “You promised me, you said that you wouldn’t do anything stupid, that my home would be there for me to return to, that you would be there for me to return to.” 

He hates himself. He hates himself for being the one to cause the anguish that wracks his god’s body with such grief and pain that he would rather experience his current agony tenfold than for the pink-haired man to suffer as he does now, arms tight around his dying lover. He hates himself for leaving his prince with a future where he sleeps alone, haunted by his cruel nightmares and ephemeral dreams that hover beside silken sheets and gauzy curtains that blow gently from silvery air. He hates himself for no longer being able to travel the shadows with his lover, to join him as they wade through the waters of time, and he hates himself for not being eternal like nature, like sun, like moon. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice faded and eaten hungrily by greedy gales that snatch up the honey of his syllables to freeze and shatter them into fractals and broken slate. There is a speechlessness and loneliness of this hour of the dead, where there is only crimson liquid staining pristine white snow, discarded weapons lying like the forgotten toys of children, and together, they are all heirs of the ruined day. 

He doesn’t regret it though. He doesn’t regret shoving Techno away from the mercilessness of a whistling arrow that had lusted for the prince’s blood, blind with greed and a weapon undeserving of stealing the coral-haired man’s life. Dream would not allow for it to ever have the audacity, the bravery, the stupidity, to even think for a second that it was worthy. The only regret that he may have however, is not being strong enough to push on, and that he would need to leave Techno to face the world, alone. 

He thinks that he would do anything, _anything_ to witness the dawning of another sunrise, to live through another spring, to hear the susurrations of felicity that would tickle his ears and bring with them, vivacious arias of vernal seasons and shy notes of budding greens. 

But Dream also thinks that he does not need to see another daybreak, another nightfall, not when the eve and coda of day condenses itself so gloriously into the hair of his lover, into the embers of his eyes, and into the sparks of his touches. 

Techno was dawn, he was dusk, and more than anything else, he was the dulcet harbinger of redamancy, returning Dream’s affections with sempiternal fervour and tenderness. Dream thinks that it was an honour to have been the Nike, bearer of victory, to Techno’s Athena, goddess of war, who cradled him so gently in his hands as if he was a small summer bird, wings crumpled, broken and bloody from his fall.

“Techno?” he breathes, voice choked slightly from the metallic liquid bubbling up at the back of his throat, spilling from his lips and resting in droplets like pomegranate seeds that stained his jaw a dark maroon. It’s hard to breathe, hard to hear beyond the white noise in his ears, hard to bat away the outstretched hands of darkness as she lays her hands on the heaviness and pain in his chest, tempting pitch black to grow behind the veil of his eyelids. 

There’s a sob from his distraught lover, and Dream’s eyes slide over to his cracked, porcelain mask lying forlornly on the side. A tired smile quirks up on his lips, eyes dulling with time as the embers begin to die, smothered, and he thinks that this isn’t a bad way to go at all, embraced by dawn, held by dusk.

***

 _“_ _When I die I want your hands on my eyes:_

_I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands_

_to pass their freshness over me one more time,_

_to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.”_

The castle is drowning in a pale, blue light when Dream wakes up. The sky has cleared, and even though the god of sun has not risen yet, he’s already stealing the darkness and the stars, blue vault lightening under the touch of his greedy fingers as he washes it with pink washes. There are specks of gold peeking out among the clouds from the first sun rays shining hesitantly just beyond the horizon, and in the silence of daybreak where the world is painted a pale rouge and mellow cream around them, Dream thinks that his lover looks the most ethereal at this time. His features are evened out, softened by the caresses of blooming light, forsythia blossoms filtering in through the silk of their curtains, and he thinks that he is blessed by the gods, to have a mere mortal like him be allowed to touch such a deity like them, rose hair falling in ripples and pooling on the pillows underneath him. 

Then the arm around his waist tightens, and Techno’s eyes blink open slowly, rubies unveiled in their full glamour and it makes Dream think that there are flowers in his heart, budding and unfurling. They don’t say anything, satisfied with the warmth emanating from their bodies, legs tangled, faces close, and smiles gentle as the prince brings a hand up slowly to tousle Dream’s locks of goldenrod and burnished amber, and the suns, stars and many moons he has impressed into the blonde-haired boy’s skin burns him like supernovas, decimating him so sweetly at the thought, at his touch. 

They kiss languidly, tinkling laughter ringing from Dream’s lips as they bump noses the first time, and there’s a subdued hunger in the way Techno’s eyes flicker with scarlet flames, in the way that his fingers grip the younger’s hips, in the way that he rolls them over so that the knight is splayed on the satin sheets underneath the prince, flaxen strands of honey glinting under the sunrise outside their windows. 

“I love you,” comes the light rumble from the man above him, words whispered in worship as Dream feels Techno rest his forehead against his, and he tilts his head to the side to press a butterfly kiss onto the elder’s lips, breathing an “I love you,” back. They stay in bed for a few moments longer, and it isn’t until the splashes of rose outside become aureate and glazed, does Techno rise, first sun in the spring, a blanket of golden-coloured jubilation wrapping around him in its mortal flame. He thinks that the only thing he would let kiss Techno apart from himself is the light that flutters through the large glass windows, illuminating specks of dust to shine like golden powder suspended mid-air, floating out of time, and with it, the broad shoulders of his beloved. 

The prince’s hair is the same colour of the brilliant dawn outside their windows as he carries Dream from their warm bed, to even warmer baths. 

\---

 _“_ _I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,_

_I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,_

_for you to smell the sea that we loved together_

_and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.”_

The midday sun traverses the empty heavens above them without repose as Techno’s airy chuckle raises the foamy cascades of the sea beside them.

They walk, hand in hand on the beach as waves shatter and pound on the restless rocks dotted around the edge of the cliff far off into the distance, black and still specks amongst foaming white and churning cerulean. The lights of noon glint across the sparkling waters to give birth to bright magnolia bursting in the cobalt, transient in their blooming, yet dazzling in the lurches of the sea. There is an ocean breeze that teases his lover’s long locks with playful fingers as it billows the loose fabric of his pearl-sheened shirt, and Dream thinks that if Techno looked mellow and adoring in the early hours of sunrise, that he looks free and regal in his liberty now, with afternoon light illuminating his figure and the winds muttering their praise. 

The sea knows of their love as they tumble around on the white sand, laughter and kisses flowering with infinite purity. There is a slimy piece of seaweed that tumbles through Dream’s hair as the younger lets out an affronted yelp at the pink-haired man’s sudden attack, grabbing the slippery leaves before he slaps it against the front of Techno’s shirt, with a chortle at the prince’s offended expression. He’s throwing his head back and letting bells tinkle through the air as he chuckles, beam on his face brighter than the sun that shone down upon them, and he does not see the devotion that is efflorescent in the way it flowers across the elder’s features, melting the charcoal of his garnet eyes to become starfire, curving his lips up to become the crescents of a blood moon. 

Dream does not, however, miss the gloved hands that yank him back down by the front of his tunic, fingers brushing gold-dusted cheeks to cup his face gently and bring him in to taste the salt of the ocean breeze on his lips, to taste the brimstone of afternoon sun, to taste freedom, to sample liberty. 

And in the weavings of the invisible threads that tied them to each other, the galloping water, and the incessant sand, they were the only permanent tenderness. 

\---

_“I want for what I love to go on living_

_and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,_

_for that, go on flowering, flowery one”_

The sky is already brindled with violet clouds, looming over the dying crimson light of the sun and lighting the flower fields copper, when Dream sits back and admires his handiwork. 

There are autographs of angels penned into the wildflowers woven through Techno’s coral hair, the vibrance of each bloom borrowed from rainbows, the sunset skies, and the hills around them. They exhale seraphic breaths past their fragrant lips that whisper of the heavens, and Dream unconsciously reaches out to stroke the petals, entranced by the way they flutter freely with the flirtatious breeze that spreads the aromas of Eden. A wreathed garland of deserved praise sitting on his head, Techno looks quietly over his shoulder to watch as Dream takes a strand of his begonia locks, slender fingers twirling around a strand before bringing it up to peach lips for a tender kiss, and there is sulfur in the way the depth of his chartreuse eyes light up like fireworks. 

Dream watches, entranced, as dusk bathes Techno with topaz, his cherry-blossom hair being washed with apricot and glittering bronze, a morganite sheen laying gently on silken strands. He sits there with a tranquil disposition, and the sky god seemed to gaze at the prince with intense admiration too in the way he sifts through Artemis-kissed hair with his winds and spread the fragrances of kaleidoscopic blossoms with his arms, every bit as enamoured with Techno’s presence as Dream was. He thinks that he should feel jealous, but Dream only feels wonder and worship. 

Sometimes he forgets that he is allowed to touch this man, he thinks, as his back is brought against a sturdy chest, and there are muscular arms that wrap around his waist to rest on his stomach. There is silver on Techno’s lips that press to his shoulders, his neck, and there is the value of tourmaline in the way he murmurs words of adoration that Dream thinks are too priceless to be spent on a mortal like him, and there is carnelian in his eyes that blaze brightly like a forest fire and it threatened to burn the younger so wonderfully if he came close. 

Dream wanted to be ignited. 

\---

_“so that you reach all that my love orders for you,_

_so that my shadow passes through your hair,_

_so that they know by this, the reason for my song.”_

The rose quartz of his hair becomes washed with a blue-tinted mist as they dance slowly in their cobalt-washed chamber. All the candles have died, and the moon is thin, light barely bright enough to see, but Dream thinks that it’s enough. Her wane, silver light cascades like a blessing on Techno’s rippling hair and bitten lips, on his dark eyes, irises drowned in black and cheeks bearing a silvery dusting to them. 

“When I become king, I want you by my side,” Techno murmurs into his ear, voice flowing like velvet, “And not as a knight, but as an equal, as a ruler, and as a lover.” And Dream realises that he has found a man with the world on his shoulders, but heaven under his feet, who replaces his psalms with the curve of Dream’s name in his mouth and finds it more honeyed than anything biblical, but just as holy. They burn each other to the ground, are reborn in livid splendour and ivory smiles, and find each other with sweet hellfire or sugared gazes. 

“I’d like that,” he whispers back, resting his head against Techno’s shoulder as the prince spun them slowly, steps sure and cloak rustling as they danced leisurely, the stars and nebula in the heavens above their witnesses to their love as they watch through large windows, twinkling their approval, “I always thought you looked good with a crown.” 

Techno laughs, baritone chuckle grounding in their tone, “You too, Dream,” the prince says, before leaning down to press a gilded kiss to Dream’s forehead, “You’d look gorgeous, all jewelled, divine, and mine.” 

And Dream wants it. He wants that future so badly, so desperately that he thinks that he would fight the sky gods themselves and shatter his bones to be able to remain by this man’s side. He would march into war with nothing but an amethyst-tinted axe, and the love in his heart, in order to stay with his lover.

He would do it all, to see another sunrise, to witness another daybreak with Techno by his side. 

***

Dream does not get to witness another sunrise. 

His breath slows, fades and dissipates into the air like wisps of crushed pearls and ivory, and his body grows limp in Techno’s shaking arms. 

His dull emerald eyes are closed by trembling hands, fingers laying across the veils to his pine irides while there is a pained cry that tears itself from the lone pink-haired figure, kneeling on the frozen battlefield as he begs for his lover to return to him, and with him the summer that wrapped his heart in gossamer gold. 

Their love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and at first light of day. It’s why the clay, the flowers, the mud and the roots know Dream’s name, knows the way way he blossoms, and knows the name on the petals of the rose that grows on the stone. 

The first rays of the sun begin to peek over the horizon. 

**Author's Note:**

> heehee short angst fic go brrrrr haha
> 
> Me: yes dream is summer boi he sparkles and everything is good  
> Also me, as i melt in 30 degrees celsius: I FUCKING HATE SUMMER WHY IS IT SO HOT 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!! <3


End file.
